


Sleep, Not to Dream

by meyghasa



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:12:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meyghasa/pseuds/meyghasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Zevran hears the Warden having a nightmare, he decides to sneak into her tent and make sure she sleeps soundly.  Completely PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep, Not to Dream

There was someone in her tent.

Eyes still closed, Mavaris drew the dagger she kept under her pillow. A fluid motion, almost too quick to see, had the assailant pinned between her strong thighs, breath escaping in a whooshed "oof" as back met ground, dagger pressed to throat just hard enough to dent the skin without cutting. 

The way his eyes sparkled with amusement told her plain that she only had him pinned because he let her.

"It's dangerous to enter someone's tent unannounced."

"About as dangerous as bedding an assassin, I imagine," Zevran purred, lifting a hand to twist his index finger in her messy hair. 

"I was sleeping."

"Ah, yes. Well, I heard your little moans and thought I might be of service."

Her voice was flat. "I was having a nightmare. If you can't tell the difference between nightmare moans and aroused moans, you're worse at this than you claim to be."

A blur of motion and she was beneath him, one of his legs pressed lightly between her leather-clad thighs, one of his hands stroking the skin just beneath one long ear. The dagger fell to the ground and he swept it away with his free hand. "Perhaps I need to prove my skill to you, my dear Warden," he whispered into her ear, voice low and rough like a cat's tongue.

Consent was implicit in her silence, conveyed in the hands pressed to the small of his back. He chuckled, pressing his thigh harder to make her legs spread for him. Sweeping her hair from her neck, his lips descended, kissing just where her jaw ended. His kisses were - she thought - unusually gentle, a caress of lips on skin from jaw to earlobe. As his lips latched onto the point of her ear, teeth grazing her skin lightly, he pressed his thigh up between her legs, eliciting a loud noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

"Shh, lest you wish our companions to talk," he murmured before tracing his tongue along the length of her ear. His thigh moved, rubbing lightly, leather against leather in the most delicious way.

She shuddered, eyes closing. "I wouldn't want my reputation ruined." Her voice was quiet, but he could hear the strain beneath it, that smoky flavor her voice took on when he was driving her particularly mad. "Although Alistair already has his suspicions--"

"I beg you, my dear, leave our Templar friend outside where he belongs." His tongue ran along her collarbone before stopping at a particular spot, that spot he knew sent shivers through her. A swirl of his tongue and his lips closed on the spot, sucking firmly, enough that she knew there would be a bruise in the morning. And his thigh, that damn incessant rubbing, enough to send tiny ripples of pleasure through her but not enough to bring her any satisfaction. 

"Zevran--"

"Shh. Patience." He glanced up at her, smirk upturning the corner of his lips. "Not your strongest virtue, I know."

"Shut up."

"As my savior commands," he murmured, kissing that spot one more time before moving up, peppering kisses across her neck, then chin, then opposite ear to perform the same slow torture.

"You know I hate it when you call me th--" The "that" split into a gasp, a combination of sensation from his mouth and thigh. One warm hand slid under the linen of her shirt, palm smoothing over her side, pausing to brush his fingers against the pucker of a scar. His hand moved, always slow, torturously slow, over the smooth skin of her stomach, the dip of her bellybutton, the bottom of her ribcage. Fingers brushed against the underside of her breast, tracing the curve of first one, then the other.

As his thigh pushed up hard against her, his teeth clamped down on the tip of her ear and his hand cupped one breast, tweaking her nipple between forefinger and thumb. She bit her bottom lip in a losing battle to keep quiet. His second hand slid under her shirt to join its partner in kneading her breasts, occasionally tracing around her nipples, sometimes pressing both breasts together before letting them again fall apart. 

"This is only in the way, yes?" He pulled away, settling back until he was sitting straddling her thighs. Pointedly keeping his hands smoothing across her skin, he pushed up until the fabric was bunched under her arms, then pulled the shirt up and over her head. Her pale skin gleamed in the flickering remains of the fire outside, and he looked her over with no less than a predatory gaze. Both hands ran down from her shoulders to her sides as his head dipped down, pink tongue extended to tease against one nipple. She moaned softly, one hand coming up to bury itself in his hair as he employed first tongue, then lips, then teeth against her. Where his mouth was occupied, his hand filled its place on her other breast, but he deftly moved back and forth between them as she arched her back.

She felt his clever fingers working at the ties at the front of her soft leather breeches. They loosened around her hips as he applied suction to one pert nipple. "Zevran." His only answer was a scrape of teeth on her skin. With a smirk of her own, she twisted her fingers in his hair and tugged until his mouth pulled free with a wet sound and he looked up at her with a questioning arched eyebrow. She crooked a finger at him and he followed it to her mouth.

Their kiss was deep, strong, but for the moment there was no playfulness there. Lips moved against lips, tongue against tongue, a conversation that they would never have with words. His arms slipped around her back, cradling her to his body as she hugged him close. 

Zevran knew pleasure as he knew pain, and he spoke both fluently. Feelings, emotions, those were elusive, hard to articulate. But here, wrapped in Mavaris's tight embrace, he said all he needed without uttering a word.

The kiss changed, Mavaris nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth before rolling him over and smoothly sliding on top of him. He looked up at her, smirking at her messy hair and swollen lips. She was much less gentle, less practiced, as she tugged his shirt up over his head and tossed it to the side. Her fingers traced every smooth line of muscle, every faded scar, the fluid arch of tattoo that wound across his side. Leaning down, she ran her tongue over each flat nipple in turn before suddenly latching onto his neck, a sweet spot that made him groan, and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise of her own. She worked that spot as her hands slid between them, tugging at the ties on his breeches hard enough that one snapped in half. 

He tsked at her. "I'll have to get our dear Wynne to fix that, you know." His voice was controlled, always controlled, but she could hear the dark flicker of lust underneath. 

"I'm sure you'll come up with a perfectly good excuse," she replied as she slid to one side, resting on her knees as she hooked two fingers under the leather and pulled. He lifted his hips to allow the pants to be pushed down and off his legs. His cock sprang free, almost entirely hard and, to her, perfect.

She traced one finger along the underside of his shaft, tip to root, and he hummed low in his throat. With a predatory smile of her own, she descended upon him, closing her fingers around the base of his cock as her mouth opened and engulfed just the tip of him. She could taste the salty precum on her tongue as it swirled along the hard ridges and dipped into the cleft. He looked down at her while she so carefully licked him and his hand rested gently against the back of her head. Slowly her lips closed around the head of his cock and she began to suck him enthusiastically, never moving to take more of his hard length into her mouth. She was intent on the head, employing lips and tongue and the gentle scraping of her teeth to stimulate him. Every moan he released into the air inspired her into more action.

Her hand came up to cup his balls, gently rolling them between her fingers as she voraciously sucked his cock. Then she switched, pulling her mouth from him and instead stroking him quickly, up and down, while she dropped her head to suck first one of his balls and then the other into her mouth. She rolled them with her tongue before pulling away, dragging her tongue up the underside as she looked up at him with her heated gaze. 

His eyes met hers. With a low growl, he tugged her forward and kissed her hard, possessive. She loved this moment more than any other: that one rare time when his precious control broke and raw need took over. He guided them both upright as he kissed her, then pushed her onto her back again. With rough jerks, he pulled her leather breeches down and off, leaving her exposed and wanting. One knee bent as she slid her other leg over, an open invitation which he was quick to accept. Leaning down over her, he kissed along her shoulder while one hand slid down her stomach and through her nest of brown curls. Fingers ghosted across her clit before spreading her, ring and pointer fingers against her lips, middle finger dragging over her entrance up to her clit and back, smooth, controlled strokes that had her writhing against the bedroll. One finger slipped inside, crooking at the first knuckle, and his thumb brushed light circles against her clit. 

Her body tensed, back arched and chin tilting up and back as she moaned his name and grasped at his shoulders. His name was a prayer and a plea, one he took to heart as his free hand moved down her inner thigh to bend her other knee. Eyes locked, he lifted his hand to his lips, sucking each finger clean of her juices with a saucy smile. She bit her bottom lip, chills running through her at the erotic image, and grabbed his hips, guiding him to settle between her legs. 

He wrapped a hand around his cock, rubbing it up and down against her, bumping against her clit with every stroke until she was seeing stars. Only then did he answer her whispered begging, pressing the flared head of his cock against her entrance and pushing, inch by torturous slow inch, until he was buried balls-deep inside her. They both went still, her fingers digging into his slim hips, as they reveled in the sweet feeling of that joining. 

The stillness did not last long before he had to move. Slowly he pulled back, almost sliding out completely, before pushing forward again. Her legs moved up, ankles locking at the small of his back, and with each of his downstrokes she lifted her hips to meet him. With each thrust he increased his speed by increments, occasionally pausing while fully encased inside her to grind against her. She was moaning louder, companions forgotten, completely lost in the sweet sensation of Zevran. Already she was squeezing his cock, hovering on the edge, and all it took was the press of his thumb to her clit to send her into oblivion, shuddering hard beneath him. 

When she came back to herself, he was pressed deep inside her, his thumb still stroking lightly. She brushed her hair from her sweaty forehead before pressing her palms to his shoulders, pushing him to sit upright. She moved with him, keeping him locked inside as she settled over his lap and crossed her legs behind him. 

Again they started to move, eschewing all pretense of slow and gentle. He pulled her close, her breasts pressed against his chest and rubbing him with every bounce. Her palms smoothed over his shoulder-blades, fingers digging into his skin. A deep moan escaped his lips as he slid his hands down her spine and cupped her ass, pulling her up and down on his cock with ever-quickening thrusts. The wet slap of skin on skin was punctuated by their combined moans and gasps. The tenor of his moaning shifted, and she knew he was close, trying to draw it out but failing to do so. One hand slipped between them and he rubbed at her clit furiously, making her bite his shoulder hard to keep from crying out as they both vaulted over that crest. Warmth flooded her as he grunted into her hair, her name lingering on his lips - the one time he would call her by name and not playful endearment. 

They stayed there, locked together, for several long moments until their heads cleared. Supporting her with both hands across her back, he lifted her up and off of him, settling her to lie back on the bedroll. Grabbing one of their shirts - hers, she noted with a vague, far-off frown of disapproval - he wiped them both clean and stretched out beside her. 

"Ah, my dear Warden," he sighed, voice sleepy and sated as he ran fingers back and forth across her stomach. "How you undo me."

Mavaris reached up, brushing his hair back and tucking it behind his ear. For a moment she just looked up at him, silent and thoughtful, before whispering, "Stay."

He blinked, fingers going still. 

"Zevran. Stay." She paused. "Maybe I will sleep better with you here."

She didn't allow him to argue, instead curling up at his side with her head resting on his shoulder and one arm draped across his chest. Slowly his arms came to rest around her. Already she was dozing, smiling like a cat in the sun, and if she heard his responding whisper, she didn't acknowledge it.

"As my savior commands."


End file.
